That Night
by Yoseia Nasuka
Summary: Feet of Clay fanfic. The night they find the poisoned Vetinari on the floor, Vimes gets a gut feeling. He runs to check on Vetinari, leading to a...semi-interesting chat.


First Discworld fic :D Need feedback o_o I hunger for feedback. 

The birds chirped from the rooftops in a constipated way, occasionally dropping their natural-ah ha-bullets on passerbys. It is often said that birds didn't make a distinction of class when pelting their natural-ah ha ah ha-arrows at people. Actually, it isn't often said, but generally the idea's passed around, like how 'dwarves are short' is passed around. 

And it's totally wrong. 

They'd _never_ shoot(ah ha ah ha) _anything_ on the Patrician, and that is a fact. Quite on the contrary, they did whatever he wanted because they had a feeling they would eventually anyway(in a painful way that involves shoving something pointy somewhere that'd make them stop doing their daily necessity). Havelock Vetinari _pulsated_ clever, cold-cut intellect. 

These birds _used_ to bother Commander Samuel Vimes of the Watch when he was a wee little lad, sucking his thumb singing "I love you, You love me, We're a Hap-Ow...". Ah ha. But not ever since he grew up and gave up drinking. It was dangerous to the bird population as a whole.* 

So the birds just watched him, waiting for him to bite into something to hard for him to break. Every bird knows that angry eyeballs are the most impeccably(haha, haha) good. 

However, Vimes, like Carrot, had gained the respect(if not trust) of all birds in Ankh Morpork. 

He had a problem with showing his kind side, but it was there. He donated his money to widows and orphans, he went around chasing men likely to kill others(like birds), he fed the starving person on the street (unless Vimes was the one who PUT him in that position), he fed the starving bird(unless he accidentally stepped over it already), and besides, for a forty some year old man, he could really make female humans ruffle their feathers sometimes, figuratively speaking. 

The birds also didn't bother Carrot. Carrot was a nice man. 

It was night. The birds settled down from their daily business. 

They heard a stomping run of feet. This was normal, when humans broke into other humans' houses and generally came back out much lumpier or covered in blood.** However, this was not the normal criminal. It was Sam Vimes, dashing towards the Patrician's building. The birds followed suit. 

- 

* Once, poor Tommy Tompecker poked some fun, and ended up in seven pieces stretched from Al-Khali to Djelibeybi. Vimes _radiated ANGER_. 

** That's when the birds try to get into the house. Care for an eyeball, anyone? 

- 

~*~ 

Vetinari felt sickly. Literally. His thin eyebrows were, against all reason, sore. The Patrician must have used the phrase "against all reason" approximately 6 times by now. By then it became reason, really. He settled in his bed, finishing the paperwork Vimes had, in his extreme courtesy, slammed down by his side and stomped on earlier. Well, at least Vimes made the effort to bring it himself. Vetinari shoved himself up, to place the paperwork on the drawer next to the door, so that Drumknott would pick it up the next day. That was an effort in itself. His main nerve in the foot arched out and he cramped up, almost toppling to the floor. Grabbing as desperately as the Patrician could, his hand found the wall and stuck itself there like a suckerfish. Hmm...nerve spasms. Is that just his body's recoil from being in bed most of the day? Vetinari placed the paperwork on its respective desk, and lurched back toward the bed. 

Good grief, he felt _sick_. 

He inwardly winced at the word. Seeing how very crippled he was, the Patrician sighed, and struck a match, intending to light the candles so he could write in his journal. 

"Whispercreak whispercreak whispercreak" went the floorboard outside the office, just when the candles began to burn. 

"Rumble boom scratch" went the walls. 

Rumble boom scratch? Hmm, interesting. It was definitely Vimes, the way it went rumble in a way that didn't suggest too much rats on Sunday, but still suggested you should get out of the way if you didn't want to become a werewolf's pancake. Boom typically meant some kind of emotion, like anger, angry, angerness-Vimes was the type of unhappy camper that would burn down the forest just to make the point he didn't _need_ to settle for just a pile of dead _logs._* But scratch? Walls didn't go scratch to anything unless you scratched them.** Vetinari tried picturing Vimes getting so angry he was scratching the walls. The picture stayed about as long as someone who called the Librarian a monkey.*** 

Vimes was also running quickly, making his way to Havelock's room. He was trying to be quiet also. Hah. Vimes thought he could be undetected. When he was in the room, not even Carrot could stay in the foreground(The room also radiated red steaming fire most of the time.) Vetinari watched as his door was slammed open(but with surprising noiselessness) and revealed the haggard, worried face to the Commander of Ankh-Morpork's Watch. 

- 

*Of course, somehow Vimes evacuates the forest animals, normally by terms of Carrot or, more oftenly, by threatening to burn THEM instead. He always seemed to have his reasons. 

**Nobby Nobbs was an exception. Walls were also known to hunch over in his presence. 

***If you see a hand laying around the library, that's your man 

- 

"...Is anything the matter, Vimes?" Said the Patrician, not even bothering to look up. This normally twitched Vimes's Mad-O-Matic meter one notch up the ladder. 

"... ..." Said Vimes in a surprised way, gathering his energy again. Now Vetinari stared at him. This went on for a few moments. The birds looked on questioningly. 

"...Sir." Said Vimes. The birds looked on questioningly a bit longer. 

"Have you gathered any of your infamous Clues, my Commander?" Asked Vetinari, placing his journal delicately back on the shelf. Vimes's face twitched. 

"...No, sir. Going back home, sir," Said Vimes. The Patrician arched an eyebrow as he watched the back of Sam Vimes skulk away. 

"Wait, Vimes," Vetinari ordered. The Commander halted. He continued. "Come back here, Sir Vimes." The low voice was dripping with frozen mead. A bead of sweat trailed down onto the floor with a satisfying 'ploup', as Vimes, stiffly, walked to the edge of the most irritating damn' man alive's bed. 

"Sir." 

"Why did you come, Vimes?" 

"Sir?" 

"Were you checking up on me?" 

"Sir." 

"Yes sir or no sir, Commander Vimes?" 

"Sir." 

_"Vimes."_

No reply. The Commander, noting for the first time he wasn't wearing anything on his top half but a tunic, had a certain feeling he would get killed if he didn't answer. Vimes tensed and looked down, face turning red. Vetinari raised the same eyebrow yet again. It was out of the question that Vimes was there to finish the job of poisoning the Patrician. Samuel Vimes was like the Patrician's dog. 

"...yes sir," Mumbled Vimes, gripping his shoulder as if his hand could suffice as armor. 

"What did you say Vimes? Please repeat yourself." Vimes, instinctively, took a large step back. 

"CREEEEAAAAAKKK" went the floorboard. Silence crept in like the fog, as Vimes looked slightly baffled. 

The walls shook a few seconds later. 

"What...Don't play games with me, Vetinari!" Vimes shouted, denting the desk nearby with his pound. The candle on top flickered. "You know damned well what I goddamned said! What are you trying to do, embarrass me?! Well, you know what, it's damn' working! I can't believe I even came over here, without preparing, through the streets of Ankh-Morpork in the goddamn' NIGHT just because I had a feeling you-" His rage turned into embarrassment as he lolled his unsaid words over in his head. 

"I? I what, Vimes?" Inquired the Patrician. Vimes's firm frame slumped. The walls unredded. "Kneel, Commander." Vimes heeded reluctantly. Vetinari pulled Vimes's head closer by his tunic, and smiled slightly and thinly. "My dear Sir Vimes, did you truly believe on intuition _I_ could've been so in danger of something I was helpless, and _you_ could have prevented it by doing your job as a _copper?_" He felt the man tense. 

"It's my job to protect the people of Ankh-Morpork, and I intend_ed_" Vimes began stiffly, emphasizing the 'ed'. "to help you if you had any trouble that involved your life on any line." Vimes's burning eyes met Vetinari's cool ones. "Even if the _you_ is above my ability, Patrician Lord Havelock Vetinari." 

Silence. 

Vetinari arched an eyebrow. 

Vimes scowled. 

"I didn't think you cared," smiled Vetinari. Retaliation hit bullseye in Vimes's mental dartboard. This was easily seen by a glowing thing in the center pupil of his eye. A pause as the glowing thing hit home in his brain. 

"I _don't_ care! It's just a copper instinct, alright?!" Vimes grasped Vetinari's holding wrist with a callused hand and threw it back. Vetinari stopped the flight of his arm towards the burning candlewick with a mild surprise. The _nerve_ of him! There was yet another pause. Vimes spat out the next words in the kind of admittance that intended to stop a more embarrassing one. "Besides, the first time I saw you today wasn't exactly reassuring either. Ankh-Morpork, as of right now, can't go in stability without you," Vimes regained himself. "sir." The regained Vimes squeaked the thought that Vetinari was staring intently at his eyes and was hollowing out his thoughts. 

"Let me ask you a series of questions." 

"Yes, sir." 

"How's Sybil doing?" 

Vimes gave him a questioning look. "Fine, sir." 

"What time did you get up this morning?" 

"Five twenty-nine a.m., sir." 

"When did you get to my office?" 

"Five thirty-two a.m., sir." 

"How long was that?" 

"Three minutes sir." 

"You do realize you live half of Ankh-Morpork away?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"For your age, that was pretty fast." 

"Yes, sir." 

"Tell me, how old are you?" 

"Forty-five, sir." 

_"How old are you, Samuel Vimes?"_

"Thirty-seven, sir. Oh, wait. _Damn_." 

"Isn't that more like it?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"How did you find me?" 

"On the floor sir." 

"Good grief. How did I look?" 

Vimes looked at Vetinari questioningly, taken aback. All he saw on his face was an innocent wanting-to-catch-up-on-things face. Much like Carrot's. "Sickly and waxen, sir." 

"You were worried and confused, I presume?" 

"Yes, sir. Wait. No, sir. Not a single damn." Vetinari sighed. Vimes so did like to play these games. 

"Listen, Commander Vimes. You know very well that you cannot hide anything from me." They listened to the candle flicker, as rebellion rose in Vimes like inflation. 

"You aren't any god, sir." Vimes began, coldly. "I've told this to my Watch many times and I'm going to tell it to you: If _anyone_ is going to try to kill you, _I_ will protect you, because if _anyone_ is going to succeed in getting past me to you, it'll be _me_ first." Vetinari's face was blank with the always mild pleasantness. 

"But my officer, _this_ culprit has gotten past you." This was like pressing a big red button labeled 'Do Not Press' on Vimes. Sooner or later, it'll get pressed anyway, and the button would explode in the fury that it got pressed later than expected. 

"So damned if he has! He got past your guard also! If I'm so inferior to _you_, then why didn't you catch him?!" 

"Ah, but Sir Samuel..." Vetinari placed a hand on the back of Vimes's neck and pulled him in. He talked, slowly and deliberately. _"You are my guard."_

This clearly tumbled Vimes's Eiffel Tower. 

"Allow me to ask you again, Samuel. _Why did you come here?"_

"I..." He started, aware how close he was to Vetinari. "I failed once. I came here...to make sure I wouldn't fail again." Vetinari smiled slightly, a genuine smile. 

"That'll be all, Vimes, my...officer," The Patrician said. "By the way, did you know that next to Margolotta and dear old Drumknott, you are the most important person in my life?" 

"?" Vimes mentally blinked. Vetinari smiled. 

"Ah...but you still give me the most amusement in your torture, Vimes. It's interesting how you're so predictable in your loyalties." Vetinari pressed a point on the back of Vimes's neck. Vimes instantly slumped, and his eyelids grew heavy. Vetinari switched his grip to Vimes's chin, lifting it so their eyes were level. Vimes's brain was trying to take in all of this. All it could think of at the moment was: _Torture? You made me break my promise to Sybil not once but TWICE, you made me run around trying to figure out things that you've already solved for AMUSEMENT?!_

That was the last thought before he went into trance. 

"Listen. None of this happened, Vimes," Vetinari said. "This is all a dream...now, go into a complete slumber...the dream has ended." 

Vimes slept. The Patrician made sure deeply. 

"Ah...you'll never understand your importance to me, Vimes...because I won't let you, with all the troubles it will cause." The man stroked back the officer's hair back, and then rung a small bell. 

"Yes, my Lord?" Answered Drumknott, in a moment's time. 

"Please carry Vimes to the Watchmen he placed outside, if you would. Tell them he fell asleep after testing out sleeping powder for arsenic." 

"...My Lord?" 

"Vimes would be one of the only people who would ever try that, the Watchmen would understand." 

"As you wish, my lord," Said Drumknott, dragging Vimes out of the room. Vetinari eased himself into the bed to contemplate. Although Vimes's antics were usually something to laugh about, his copper instincts were not. That was mostly likely why he had the look of somebody who knew the Disc was going to collapse in on him with a big squishy noise. 

Now, what had he been doing? 

Vetinari stared at the candle. It flickered with a different colored light. 

He smiled. 

Samuel Vimes was more important to him than Vimes could ever imagine. 

Havelock Vetinari reached out and snuffed the flame. 


End file.
